Home Plate

Christmas at Svea: Lutefisk and a song

December 22, 2011|By Kevin Pang, Chicago Tribune reporter

"Just so everyone knows," Tom Martin announced to all in the diner, "it's this gentleman's fault that I'll be singing a song."

On the word "this," Martin gestured to me. Sitting at the counter alone, like a duck in the cross hairs, I suffered the judging stares of 30 sets of eyes. It's doubly embarrassing because not only did my actions bring brunch to a halt at Andersonville's Svea, but I also just admitted to ordering lutefisk.

I dare not sully the good name of lutefisk, beloved by Scandinavians and most Minnesotans who collect Social Security. Lutefisk is dried cod that has been reconstituted via a two-week soaking in water and lye. During the process, the fish puffs up to a consistency that when heated becomes translucent and jiggly. Folks can't get enough of it.

Svea's 79-year-old owner, Tom Martin, turns into a kid between Thanksgiving and Christmas, when lutefisk is added as a menu special at this longtime Swedish diner. Whenever a customer orders it, Martin marks the occasion with a rousing rendition of "O Lutefisk," a noisy tradition perpetrated by Svea's original owner and honored by Martin since he took over in 2000.

A hundred years ago, Chicago was home to more Swedes than any city outside Stockholm, and many immigrants lived in Andersonville. These days, restaurants along the 5000 block of North Clark Street represent Japan, the Middle East, Carolina Lowcountry and whatever Swedish remnants of yore remain in a handful of delis, bakeries and diners. The Svea space had been a restaurant as far back as the 1930s.

Martin was retired when the opportunity to own a restaurant suddenly presented itself. Martin called it a career in 1994 after 36 years working for a railroad company. In retirement, he became so bored at home he was organizing his wife's Tupperware for fun. The same year, his son Scott bought Simon's Tavern, an Andersonville staple since 1934. At his wife's urging to get out of the house, Martin became a daytime bartender at Simon's.

Martin befriended Kurt Mathiasson, who opened Svea in 1972 and was the founder of the Swedish American Museum across the street. Their friendship was strong enough that when Mathiasson was dying of cancer, he offered to sell the restaurant to Martin for a good price because he didn't want Svea — it means Mother of Sweden — to close. It has been almost 12 years since Martin took over.

"It's a fluke," Martin said. "But do I regret it? No way."

The only thing Swedish about Tom Martin is his wife, Delores. (He's Bohemian.) Delores' mother is the source of Svea's Swedish pancake recipe, tangy and chewy with lingonberry jam, closer in texture to a thick crepe. When I come here for breakfast, I'm a fan of their eggs with falukorv — a Swedish ring bologna sausage — served with home fries, cooked up crispy with margarine and paprika.

But there's the delicate matter of lutefisk, embedded in the taste memories of Nordic descendants. On the Saturday afternoon I took my maiden voyage to Gelatinous Fish Island, I expressed anxiety to two waitresses. Neither had tried lutefisk nor seemed enthusiastic at the prospect.

Martin stood behind the counter and proclaimed that he would now perform "O Lutefisk," and well, it was my fault this was happening. When Mathiasson ran the place, he used to play the guitar while singing the song, so we were witnessing a storied tradition.

Martin revealed that "O Lutefisk," sung to the tune of "O Tannenbaum," features five stanzas: the introductory verse, the humorous second, the patriotic third, the sentimental fourth, then the inspiring grand finale.

Martin hammed it up to Defcon 1, emphasizing the baritone vibrato, pronouncing v's for w's, y's for j's:

O lutefisk, o lutefisk, I love your sweet aroma

O lutefisk, o lutefisk, you put me in a coma

You smell so strong, you look like glue

You taste yust like an overshoe

But lutefisk, come Saturday

I tink I'll eat you anyway.

This went on for four more verses, and by the end of the performance some two minutes later, Martin was standing among the diners, with arms outstretched:

... Now all da vorld can have a ball, you're better dan dat Yeritol

O lutefisk, vit Brannvin, you make me feel so young again!

When the applause died down, I was left with a plate of lutefisk and boiled potatoes covered in cream sauce. It stared back at me. I moved it with my fork, it wobbled.